


Like Faded Photographs, Forgotten Songs

by uistic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Break Up, Forgiveness, Guilt, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 21:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uistic/pseuds/uistic
Summary: Of course, it's nothing like before. Some of the old paranoia is gone, or maybe it's just changed into something subtler and more insidious. It's not them against the world anymore. In the ring it’s easy. Out of it… not so much. It’s not bad, just tense. The old familiarity is gone, replaced with something new and edged and fragile that feels like it might shatter if he looks at it the wrong way.





	Like Faded Photographs, Forgotten Songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



The hotel gym is small, luxurious and useless for his purposes. A pool too small to do lengths, a sauna, a treadmill, a bike, and a couple of lounge chairs, potted plants and yoga mats. No free weights or kettlebells. He runs for an hour on the treadmill, does a few half-hearted stretches and handstands, and avoids glancing at the clock on the wall with single-minded determination. The closest crossfit box is across town and he should have sucked it up and gone, but he had this persistent feeling that he needed to stay close. He always used to, back in the day.

Of course, it's nothing like before. Some of the old paranoia is gone, or maybe it's just changed into something subtler and more insidious. It's not them against the world anymore. In the ring it’s easy. Out of it… not so much. It’s not bad, just tense. The old familiarity is gone, replaced with something new and edged and fragile that feels like it might shatter if he looks at it the wrong way.

He is just finishing up when the door to the women’s showers open up and Stephanie comes out, hair pulled back in a loose pony tail, towel slung over her shoulder. Seth chokes on his water and coughs, and she turns her head, looks him up and down. Assessing. She’s wearing tights and a tank top, no make up, and it should make her look less intimidating. It doesn't. 

”Seth.” Her eyes flick around the little gym and he doesn’t like the quirk of her lips, suspecting that whatever comes next will slice him to the bone. He used to love her cruelty. To be fair, it was easier when it wasn’t aimed at him. 

”Hey, Steph. You look good.”

”Why, thank you, sweetheart.” She leans up and kisses his cheek. The familiar scent of her shampoo makes his stomach twist. She pulls back, eyes raking him over. ”You’ve looked better.”

He can't tell if she means in the suits she taught him to wear or cuffed to the headboard of their bed, and either way he’s not sure he disagrees. ”Been a long week." 

"I never congratulated you, did I? You and Dean, tag team champs. Must feel good to have someone else to carry your weight after all those months of losing on your own. I mean, it's nothing like the titles you used to have, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?” She lets her hand slide down his arm in an intimate gesture, and it makes something shameful and unwanted stir in the pit of his stomach. "This little Shield reunion of yours? It won't last. Be careful." 

Seth pulls away. ”Not everyone in this business is a backstabber."

"Seth, honey.” Stephanie's voice is dripping with faux concern. "I’m not talking about _them_.” She smiles that sweet, savage smile that means she’s tasted blood in the water, and he knows a lot about Stephanie McMahon, like how she takes her coffee in the morning, that her favorite flower is lily-of-the-valley and that she falls asleep burrowed up under the covers but kicks off all the blankets during the night, but he still hasn’t figured out how to keep her from getting under his skin. ”We would have chosen Roman, you know. We talked about it. He’s got the look, the charisma. A little rough around the edges, but nothing that couldn’t be smoothed out. Unfortunately that man doesn’t have a deceitful bone in his body. We needed a traitor.” 

Seth pulls back. ”You know what? Fuck you.” 

He turns around and leaves, but Steph always gets the last word. Her mocking retort follows him into the locker room. ”Oh honey, you wish.” 

 

The worst part of it is that he does. In the shower the water pounds against his back with a force he associates with first class gyms and hotel suites well above his paygrade, champagne and limos, expensive wine, king sized beds and the most destructive, exhilarating, dysfunctional relationship he's ever had. He leans against the wall and groans as the strong, steady pressure soothes his aching muscles, beating the tension out of them.  

When she showed up at the arena, effortlessly beautiful, sharp and cruel and brilliant, the strength of how much he missed them knocked the breath out of him. She breezed past him on the ramp like he wasn’t even there and he dug his fingers into the red leather of the title and schooled his face into impassivity while watching her lay into Kurt Angle with surgical precision. 

He used to love watching her do that. It used to make him feel good knowing that the most vicious, ruthless power couple of the company had his back, that their contempt and scalding judgement was reserved for everybody else.  

When his knee gave out he left their bed for endless, isolated months of rehab. And when he came back--

Stephanie's distance and Hunter's persistent absence was a disappointment, but not a surprise. They dropped him the moment it became clear his rehab would be longer than a couple of weeks. He understood that he'd been dumped, but he didn't think that would translate into eating a pedigree from Hunter in the middle of the ring, then being offered up to Kevin Owens like a benediction. 

He loved Roman and Dean, and he turned on them. He loved Hunter and Steph, and they showed him exactly what betrayal feels like from the receiving end. Seth tries not to waste his time on should haves and what ifs, but it still galls him that they got there first. That he didn't think to make a clean, decisive break before Hunter chose to show the world just how replaceable he was.

This is the first time he’s spoken to either one of them since he defeated Hunter at Wrestlemania. That was supposed to be the end of it. An exorcism.  _Kingslayer_ , his merch says, and he’s ashamed of the guilt that sometimes makes him flinch when he catches a glimpse of the bold text in the mirror. It's fucked up to feel guilty about defeating the man who tried to end his career, especially compared to all the things he should feel guilty about and don't.

Does it show? Roman doesn't fully trust him, and Dean, god, who knows about Dean? He half-expects a chair to his spine every time he turns his back on him and he thinks he’ll feel better once he gets it. There is no way forgiveness comes this easy.  

After the shower he pulls his hair up in a loose, messy bun and pulls on jeans and a t-shirt. The hotel room feels desolate and claustrophobic the way only hotel rooms can, halfway between a prison and a safe house. He means to get out, get some fresh air, but he gets stuck on the bed with the title draped across his lap, running his fingers over the smooth, polished leather until a knock on the door startles him.

It's Dean, because of course it is. He's got his hands in his pockets, gum in his mouth, amber hair falling into his eyes. ”Hey, we’re gonna grab a couple of beers in the hotel bar, wanna-- Seth? What’s wrong?”

It’s disconcerting, the way Dean can take one look at him and immediately tell that something’s off. He wonders if Dean can smell Stephanie's shampoo on him. ”Headache. Sorry. Catch you guys for breakfast?”

"Yeah, no fucking way.”

"What's going on?" Roman says, appearing at Dean’s shoulder. 

"Seth's being weird." There is a weary, unhappy slant to Dean's mouth that Seth hates.  

"I'm not- I'm just tired, _Jesus_." 

Roman's eyes narrow. Seth can feel the trust cracking like thin ice under his feet. If he pushes the lie, the trust will splinter, and if he tells them the truth…

It’s been an unspoken rule since their reunion that they don’t talk about the elephant in the room. As if by not talking about his time with the Authority, they can make it go away. Only it’s not working. Seth knows it’s not working. But he’s been lying professionally for years and isn’t sure he knows how to stop. 

He means to tell them about Steph, but what comes out of his mouth is: ”Can we not talk about this in the hallway?”

It's not a great strategy, though, because once they're in his room all words dry up. 

"You're freaking me out," Dean says, when the silence has turned from uncomfortable to painful. "What is it? You want out? Your knee's acting up again? Your mom's dying? _What_?"

For a wild, reckless moment Seth feels the dark urge to burn his bridges and be done. No apologies. No redemption. To just say fuck this and embrace the monster everyone still see lurking underneath the surface.

Stephanie's good. Hunter gets all the scary monikers but Steph doesn't need a sledgehammer to hurt you. She just needs her smile and her words and you won't even know you got cut until you're walking away and see yourself bleeding.

"I'm sorry." It says something about how difficult apologizing is to him that his heart starts racing before he's even hit the second word. He looks at Roman. "I don't think I've ever said it to your face. I mean, I told Dean, in the ring-"

"More like you told the crowd," Dean says.

"Yeah." Seth crosses his arms, hugging himself. "Well, I'm telling you now. I'm really sorry. If I could go back and change things-"

"What, that Wrestlemania moment wasn't worth it?" Roman sounds a little offended, as if the only thing worse than having Seth steal his moment would be having steal his moment and then _regret_ it. Like he would have given it to Seth, if he'd just known enough to ask. And Seth can't for the life of him tell if he's joking. 

He begins to speak, then shuts up, because if there's one thing Hunter and Stephanie taught him it's that sometimes, silence really is the best defense. 

"What's got you rattled?" Roman asks.

"Maybe I just wanted to apologize."

Dean snorts. "Sure you did."

"Come on." Roman nudges him with his arm. "Quit bullshitting. What happened?"

He considers being offended, but if he has given them anything at all over the past couple of years, that would be plenty to reasons to distrust him. "Steph cornered me at the gym." He instantly regrets not using her full name. Stephanie McMahon is the commissioner of Raw. Steph is… someone else. Someone no one in this room needs to be reminded of.

"What is she offering now?" Dean's voice is flat.

Seth laughs. It feels like jagged shards in his throat. "God, no. They wouldn't take me back if I begged. Anyway, that's not important. I just need you to know I'm serious about this." He nods at the title. "About us. I don't know how to prove it to you but-" 

"Did she threaten you?" Roman says, with a tone that implies that he's going to march right up to her room and torch her entire wardrobe if he says yes.

"What? No, she's not- She doesn't need threats. And there's nothing she wants from me." 

"You're an idiot," Dean says, matter of fact. "Stephanie McMahon is a lying liar who lies. She's not looking out for you anymore. Whatever she told you, however she said it, you know her only aim was to fuck you up. Right?"

"Yeah, but- I'm not even talking about-"

"Yeah, you are." Dean jabs him the chest with a finger. "She told you something, some crap like 'they'll never forgive you' or 'look how pathetic you are without us' or even 'you know what you are, you can't ever change', so now you're here trying to prove her right or prove her wrong or whatever, but I'm telling you, again - Stephanie McMahon is a _lying liar who lies_. Doesn't matter what the fuck she says. She opens her mouth? Oh, hey, there's a lie. So who are you going to listen to? Us or _her_?"

"I fucked up," Seth says.

"Is this a new fuck up?" Roman asks. "Or are we still rehashing the shit you did three years ago?"

Seth stares at him. "I don't know," he finally manages. "Are we over that?"

" _We_ are," Dean says. "Are you?"

And the horrible thing is, Seth doesn't know how to answer. For a terrifying moment he feels like he missed his chance to set things right. That they've moved on without him. Then Dean rolls his eyes and pushes him down on the bed, straddling him. "This okay?"

He’s very warm, and very near, and Seth can’t tell if the rapid beating of his own heart means that he’s excited or terrified. ”What?” 

”Idiot.” Dean kisses him.  

Seth’s first instinct is to push him away, because this isn’t happening. It can't be. Only Dean remembers exactly what he likes, pulls on his lip with his teeth, runs his fingertips right across that sweet spot behind his ears that sends shivers all the way down his spine, and Seth makes an embarrassing sound and grabs Dean by the neck, pulling him closer. 

”Guess it is,” Roman says, a low rumble. The bed dips when he shifts to join them. Some of Seth's panicky confusion fades when Roman grabs his hair and pulls his head back to kiss him. Hunter would have yanked, but Roman's barely tugging, and he doesn't know why it affects him as much as it does. They're being weirdly, incongruously careful with him, and Seth suddenly remembers the last time someone touched him like this, almost down to the minute. June 1st, 2014. 

His breath catches in his throat and he pushes them aside. "Wait. I don't-- Why? You can't want this. You don't know how fucked up I am. I've--"

"If it makes you feel better," Roman says, "we've talked about this for a while, _uce_."

Nothing in this world, Seth thinks, is as terrible as hope. You can quell every spark, build walls, don armor, and then someone says the wrong thing at the wrong time and it kindles from the ashes, growing like weed in the cracks of the pavement.

"Since when?"

"Since forever." Roman shifts on the bed to be able to look Seth in the eyes. "But as a real thing, I guess since that contract signing with Triple H when he promised to end your career and you told him to shove it."

"Bravado." Seth remembers how scared and lost and furious he felt, how Hunter's taunts went right under his skin and how he knew that if he couldn't beat Hunter in the ring, a part of him would always feel like he was running.

"Doesn't matter." Dean catches his gaze and holds it. "That was when we thought there might be a chance. That there was still something left of our brother."

"So we want this," Roman says gently. "The question is, do you?"

Seth stares at them for a long while. "If you're lying to me-" 

Dean smacks him across the head. "Shut up, asshole. Yes or no?"

He feels strange, like he's both inside of his body and at the same time standing a few steps to the side, watching. Stephanie would say that they're playing him, that he's too naive, or that he's doomed to let them down. Once a traitor, always a traitor. But Stephanie McMahon is a lying liar who lies.

Not trusting his voice to carry, Seth nods. Dean's eyes light up and Roman takes his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Seth reaches for them both and the night wraps around them like velvet. Dawn is still several hours away.


End file.
